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Fuel efficiency was the last thing on Andrei's mind. He knew the specs by heart: the MiG-25's supersonic combat radius exceeded 500 kilometers. Later models like the MiG-31 would push that to over 700. Their current mission, an interception just 200 kilometers out, was well within range.
Under direction from Ground Control Intercept (CGI), the two MiGs banked into descent as they approached Sector 14 — a patch of open ocean near the Soviet coast.
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Below, a strange aircraft glided over the Sea of Japan, hugging international airspace near Soviet territory.
It wasn't a fighter — it looked like a transport plane, though the fuselage bristled with antennas and a distinctive bulge beneath its belly.
Four propeller engines hummed. The aircraft cruised steadily at 8,000 meters.
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Inside the cockpit, Lieutenant Asius of the U.S. Air Force checked his instruments.
"Approaching Soviet airspace. Stay sharp," he said calmly.
"All systems active. Begin signal collection. We evacuate the moment we're done."
The crew went to work. Dials flicked, antennas rotated. Electronic waves poured in from Soviet coastal installations — intercepted, analyzed, and catalogued in real time.
"Got a radar ping. Monopulse signal. High-power. It's a Cyclone-A," an officer called out.
Everyone froze for a second.
"MiG-25," someone muttered.
The Cyclone-A was the MiG-25's signature radar system. The Americans had studied it in depth, but encountering it live — out here, unannounced — always raised tension.
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The EP-3 was no ordinary aircraft. It looked like a harmless maritime patrol plane, but it was packed with signal intelligence gear — ALQ-110 collectors, ALR-52 analyzers, multi-channel radio sniffers — all designed to map Soviet air defenses, jammers, and radars.
Its job? Get close, soak up signals, and disappear before anyone could react.
And yet, here came the Soviets — fast, and high.
"Two MiGs on approach!" the pilot shouted.
Like knives dropping from the sky, the MiG-25s dove head-on, closing fast, then streaked overhead. In that split-second flyby, the massive red stars on their tails flashed like warnings.
Inside his cockpit, Andrei caught a glimpse of the aircraft — and immediately recognized it.
The EP-3.
Modified from the P-3 Orion, it was a Cold War workhorse — large, slow, and unarmed, but dangerous in its own way. With a payload over 25 tons and racks full of surveillance gear, it was a spy plane in every sense.
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"032, maintain visual. I'm going in for the pass," Belenko said over the radio.
Andrei responded, "Copy. 032 following."
He pulled his MiG back into a tight turn and dropped into position behind his wingman.
Belenko's MiG arced aggressively toward the EP-3.
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"What are those bastards doing?" the American pilot muttered.
The MiG had just blasted past their tail — the turbulence rattled the entire aircraft. The pilot nearly lost control. One wrong move and the EP-3 would've torn itself apart.
"Relax," Asius said coolly. "They won't fire. We're still in international airspace. They're just flexing."
He was right. This kind of encounter was routine during the Cold War — muscle-flexing, radar locks, high-speed passes. It was intimidation, not combat.
Still, the MiG's presence made the crew uneasy.
They were near Vladivostok, the crown jewel of Soviet Pacific operations. The Russians guarded it like a dragon hoarding gold.
That made this flight critical — and dangerous.
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Above, the MiG-25 banked sharply and circled again.
Belenko hit the throttle, pulling a high-G maneuver that sent the jet skimming just meters above the EP-3. It was like slamming the brakes in mid-air — a textbook close pass.
Andrei watched from behind, impressed.
Whoever said the MiG-25 lacked low-altitude agility had never flown one nearly empty. The afterburners had burned off several tons of fuel during cruise. Now lighter, the massive interceptor moved like a much smaller fighter.
The stainless steel frame could take it — Soviet engineering was brutal, but effective.
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The EP-3 held its line. No retreat. No change in course.
"Still won't back off," Belenko muttered.
He looped back again, circling overhead like a hawk.
"I've tried everything short of nudging their wing."
"031, 032 requesting permission to initiate formal expulsion," Andrei radioed.
A pause. Then Belenko replied:
"Granted."
Time to turn up the pressure.
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